the Life of an average Time Lord
by rainbowguard
Summary: Follow the lives of the human Doctor & Rose Tyler at home, in the parallel universe.


**Title: **_the life of an average Time Lord._  
**Author**: rainbowguard  
**Fandom**: Doctor Who (Tentoo x Rose)

John Doe, for the authorities. John Smith, for the people at Torchwood. The tall weird guy, for everyone else. And Bob. But that was just for Rose.

He had so many names.. He remembered when he was only The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm. But then again, it wasn't really him.. Only his time lord self. Whoever he was, whatever his name, the only things he was sure of were that he was in love with a woman named Rose Tyler, and that he was human. An ordinary human being.

He was a mess, that he knew too ; he couldn't stay still, he knew nothing of everyday life such as making a living, or cleaning, cooking .. He was rude, he was pedantic, he was angry ; he barely slept, ate or drink ; he was not a very patient man : he needed movement to stop his brain from going crazy. When standing still, he would _think_ ; and that he could not bear. His mind was always racing to this or that conclusion, thought, question .. there was no quiet for him.

To occupy himself, he had this huge library Rose had had made especially for him, full of books of history, biology, mechanics .. He had tried recreating a sonic screwdriver as well. And he had his work to keep him busy. Working for Torchwood meant long hours, no holidays or days off, lots of action and running around .. But lately, it seemed as if nothing could keep his mind from turning, round and round, over the same topic ; it was driving him nuts. He was _afraid_. He had never truly felt afraid before, he was born of anger and battle ; he was born a soldier, and the Doctor had retired him.

Everything was different now, he thought, as he looked around. Rose and he had moved in a big house a few days before, and there were still boxes of their stuff everywhere. He knew he ought to do something about that, but he hated this house, he hated what it meant. And every time he tried discussing it with Rose, she would change the topic or stop him from talking by distracting him. She had her way to make him forget everything ; and she used it a lot on him lately. Something was up, he knew, and that frightened him even more. Rose was hiding it, not very well, but it was still a secret. And they had no secret for each other. She knew he hated tranquillity, she knew he hated seeing himself become sedentary. But he knew nothing of what was going on in her head since they had closed the entry door of the house behind them. His Rose was leaping away.

She was in the adjacent room, sorting out her stuff. It was meant to be her study, and the room he was in now was his study. Between them stood a huge arch that permitted them to talk and roam freely into the two rooms, but for now, it just enabled him to look at his Rose. She seemed sad. Beautifully sad.

He had noticed the men at work looked at her with lust. But they were missing the point of her : it wasn't about her appearance at all. It was her personality, which shined through all ; it was her long honey hair, which she so often let loose ; it was her eyes, shining in the semi darkness ; it was the way she frowned right now, which John found ever so cute ; it was all of her, the love, the affection she had for everyone, it was her courage and her heart, it was her kindness, and her determination. He loved her, he was made to ; and his love was unconditional. He couldn't help it, it was who he is, it was what defined him.

But it didn't define her. He knew she had chosen him for what he had claimed he could give her ; it was for his face and for a promise : unlike the Doctor, he could never ever leave.

But none of that mattered. He was Rose's, and he longed for Rose to be his. Truly his.

"Hey, time lord Bob. What are you thinking about ?" Rose was facing him, with a smile on her lips, and books in her hand. She had approached him when he was thinking, something that she often did. "Why are you calling me Bob ? You never said." She laughed. "I don't know. It was supposed to be a joke, at first, but .. It really stuck to me. It suits you, now." She put down the books on the shelves, one by one, with care, and got back to her boxes. He knew he ought to do the same ; but unpacking meant that that was it. They were living in this house, and probably for the rest of their lives. He had tried to think of all the happy memories that they could have here, all the fights they had still to win, and all the love that they would share, resonating through the walls, infiltrating their home at its core. He had tried, and yet, when he came to think of their future, he imagined his TARDIS. Well, not _his_. The Doctor's. She was happy there, and happy was what he wanted her to be. He could grow one, but that would take more time than he could possibly have, and what good would it do ? Rose was home. Her family was there, her job, her friends. She had settled down, and so should he.

He looked around him. Rose's study was filled with drawings, accounts of planets, and little journals where she had written the story of her travels. She had also displayed on the shelves everything she had brought home from her time in the Tardis, and it made the whole room look like the room of an explorer. His study, on the other hand, was more of a workshop ; this was meant to be the room where he would repair and invent, observe and change all the little objects Torchwood needed fixed or categorized. He was their all time out of space specialist.

In an attempt to do the right thing, he emptied out the only box that was his : he wasn't much of a keeper. This box contained the few clothes Rose had bought him, objects he had taken from Torchwood to inspect, and some old books he found at a thrift store, whatever that was. But now that he had done that, it hit him : what was he supposed to do with it ? Just put it somewhere and never touch it again ? He took a quick glance at Rose to see how she put her stuff ; but he found her watching him and laughing. "I'll give you a clue : the clothes do not go in your study." She got closer to him, and put her arms around him. "I'll give you another : they go in a piece of furniture, in the bedroom, called a closet." "Don't make fun of me, Rose Tyler. I know I'm a mess, you don't need to point it out" he laughed, in response. He kissed her forehead gently. "How are you doing ?" "I'm fine. I was just thinking that we should hire someone to clean the house because look at the size of it." She straightened up a bit and smiled. "Look at me. I'm 23, and I'm about to hire someone to clean my house. That's so weird."

"If I were you, I would be more worried about the fact that you're going to live in said house with a man who doesn't even know where to put his socks away." He had meant it to be a joke, but now that it was out in the open, it sounded really frightening. He felt Rose getting tense and realised that he had scared her. But she still replied, sweetly : "I know that. And yet I'm doing it anyway." She kissed his nose, smiled, and pulled away.

He cursed himself under his breath. He was meant to make her happy, not to freak her out. _Damn stupid brain_. He took his clothes, and went to their room.

* * *

So, what do you think ?

Please review so that I know if I should go on or not !


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